


My Light

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:35:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1736432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock loses one of the most important aspects of his life... But gains something else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John let out a frustrated huff. He was standing, for the first time in months, on the outside of a "do not cross" tape. Sherlock got a few minutes on the crime scene, but since this wasn't under Greg's jurisdiction, they wouldn't let him in. It was a fairly old house, abandoned, and perfect for a double homocide. 

John was getting bored, how long did Sherlock get on that crime scene anyway? He looked up at the window where he assumed the crime scene was, and that's when it happened. The explosion itself made no sound at all, but there was a shout and a loud thud, and then thick smoke started pouring out the windows of the second floor.

"Sherlock!"

John ducked under the tape and ran inside. Nobody even tried to stop him. His soldier instinct kicked in, but his 'Protect Sherlock' one was much stronger. He just knew this would happen, the moment he separated himself from Sherlock on a crime scene something went wrong. 

He ran up to a confused and terrified looking man who was standing in front of a closed door.

"Is Sherlock in there?!"

"I'm sorry sir, but you can't go in, we're waiting for the specialists!"

"Are you insane?! Can't you smell that? It could choke them or blind them! It's a mix of toxic gases! How many people are in there?!"  
John knew exactly what he was talking about, he had smelt it, witnessed it, one too many times in the battlefield. 

"Just the consulting detective, he wanted everybody out..."

Typical Sherlock. 

"We're wasting time!"  
John grabbed two pairs of protective spectacles and a sergeant's mask off the supply table. That'll have to do. Putting them on, he slid his shirt over his nose, just for good measure and pushed past the officer at the door. He didn't even put up a fight, John would scoff at how bad at his job the officer was, if he wasn't so busy being thankful for it.

 

wWw

Sherlock was tumbling around, scarf pressed to his mouth, eyes tightly shut. The gas burnt. Not just his eyes, which were useless in this situation, but his skin too. He tried to open his eyes several times, but he couldn't see a thing, not to mention the acidic feeling. He oriented himself with the knowledge he already had of the room and stumbled to the door. 

And then he heard the sound of someone (no doubt John) barging in. 

"Sherlock!"

That confirmed it, it really was John. 

"Over here John!"

Soon two familiar hands gripped his shoulders and he grabbed on to them in return, thankful for John's existence. 

"Can you walk?" John's voice was dripping with concern, but it was lacking something else. Panic. John was completely in control. 

"Of course i can walk." Sherlock attempted a witty reply, but the rasp and exhaustion in his voice sabotaged it. The way he stumbled and John having to catch him also didn't help.

"Can walk my arse." John said and hoisted Sherlock's arm over his shoulder. "Whatever you do, don't open your eyes." He said and started carrying his friend to the door. He realized that the goggles were useless now since the gas would only get trapped in them and hurt Sherlock even more. 

They hobbled to the door and burst out in to the hallway. And just in time, because as soon as they were out, Sherlock collapsed completely, exhausted from the lack of oxygen and the gas in his lungs. He felt he was being laid down and he heard John giving orders to close the door and seal it with cloth and tape. His clever John, always resourceful. 

He tried to open his eyes again and hissed in pain immediately. John was next to him within a second. "Didn't i tell you to not open your eyes?" Sherlock mumbled something inaudible. His skin still burned and his mouth hurt with every breath. He was so tiered, and with his eyes already shut, why wouldn't he take a rest?

John seemed to agree with him. He could feel his fingers on his pulse under the leather glove, where it hurt less. "Your pulse is fine. Take a rest Sherlock. I'll keep watch." That calmed him. John was there, keeping watch, protecting as always. Even if it wasn't necessary. 

Sherlock took one glove off and reached for his own face but John caught him by the wrist. "No, Sherlock, you'll only hurt yourself more." "But-" He tried to protest "You're not fine, you need medical help.""And you?" Sherlock managed. "I'm okay. See?" He raised Sherlock's hand and gently pressed it to his cheek.

And Sherlock examined him. He carefully traced his fingers under John's eye, it had it's usual puffy bags indicating lack of sleep. He touched John's nose, it was the same as ever, a bit crooked from the time that serial killer elbowed him in the face. From there he went to the corner of John's mouth. It had those small smiling creases that made Sherlock so happy every time they appeared. John was smiling slightly, and Sherlock smiled with him. 

He rested his palm against John's jaw and let out a breath of relief. John was okay. His hand was still lightly gripping Sherlock's wrist. His skin was the same, no burns or new scars. He was fine. 

"You are." He confirmed and let John lay his hand down on his chest. He hadn't slept in five days... He could let himself slip a bit... 

And with John's hand over his, he fell in to unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

When Sherlock woke up, there weren't any bright lights. In fact, he couldn't even open his eyes. 

The smell told him that he was in a hospital, there were needles in his arms, and he could hear beeping. His eyes were forced shut with a bandage. He could hear soft breathing somewhere to his side. He reached out gently and laid his hand down on a head of soft short hair lying on the side of his bed. 

John.

He smiled and brushed his fingers over John's hair. He was slowly going out of the morfine haze.   
Yes, he could remember now. 

John was okay. 

The gas didn't hurt him. 

The gas. 

The burning.

His eyes.

The bandage. 

He started hyperventilating.

His eyes. 

The bandage. 

John woke up even before Sherlock's fingers started tightening in his hair.

"Sherlock?"

He lifted his head with some difficulty. 

"Sherlock! Calm down. Everything's okay."

"My eyes John! What happened to my eyes?!"

"You got burned, they're healing."   
John took the hand off his head and thread his fingers through Sherlock's. He would probably never do this in normal circumstances, but Sherlock needed comfort beyond anything else right now. 

"Your eyes will be fine, you won't stay like this for ever."

"Yes, i figured that muCH OUT JOHN!"

"Then why are you yelling?"

Sherlock stopped hyperventilating. He stopped breathing completely. He squeezed John's hand and let out a shaky breath. 

"I-it's irrational. I shouldn't be this stupid."

"It's not stupidity Sherlock, it's fear."

"John-"

"No, Sherlock, you have feelings, you are capable of fear. We've established this in Baskerville... Now would you please just calm down...a bit?"

He's established his feelings long before Baskerville... But John doesn't need to know that. He held his breath once more, loosened his grip on John's hand, and when he exhaled, it was much steadier than last time. 

"How long?" 

"Hm? Oh, well that's a bit of a problem. The doctor estimated anywhere between four and six weeks..."

Sherlock inhaled sharply. John squeezed his hand.

"Hey, hey, it'll be okay, we'll find you something to occupy yourself, and Greg can give me some cold cases to translate to Braille... And i can even take an absent leave from the surgery if you need me..."

Sherlock thought about it all. There would be no more cases, no experiments, no laptop, no mobile. All that for six weeks! He will go out of his mind. But then again, his violin is still an option, and then there's practicing his other senses. And renewing his knowledge of Braille code. And John. There all day every day... Hmmm that did sound good.

Sherlock started nodding slowly, and then more enthusiastically. He smiled at John.

"So when are we leaving then?"

**Author's Note:**

> tags will added if needed...


End file.
